Fundraising for Flounders
by MillionMoments
Summary: Part 4 of the Marine Biology series set after Fruits de Mer. The first date does not exactly go as planned.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Fundraising for Flounder

Rating: T

Category: Richard/Camille, Romance, Comedy, First Date

Summary: Part 4 of the Marine Biology series set after _Fruits de Mer_. The first date does not exactly go as planned.

A/N: This has been sitting on my computer for ages, but I am finally getting back to it now! Just one chapter after this one.

* * *

Richard didn't think women could get pissed off at you for being a gentleman. And he honestly did think he was being a gentlemen when he walked her home at the end of the evening, but declined the offer to come inside. He really, really wanted to – but Richard was an old fashioned sort of man and felt he should at least buy her dinner first, take her on a 'proper' date. Camille had been argumentative, pointing out that he had previously bought her dinner the night they found the pearl together. But he didn't feel that counted – after all he had only done that because he had lost a bet with her. When he had explained this, Camille had thrown her hands up in the air in frustration and marched into her house, slamming the door behind her.

He didn't get much sleep that night worrying that he may have blown his chance with Camille. Richard spent hours mentally trying to compose some speech to explain himself, since he had clearly done so poorly the first time, but it was all in vain. Around 4 a.m. he actually rose from bed to grab some paper in case he found he could express himself better that way, but his brain simply could not supply any words eloquent enough. He should have remembered that Camille was French, passionate, very impatient and, most of all, right in her argument that the two of them had shared a fair few 'date-like' experiences recently. It was ridiculous of him to have felt like he would be taking advantage of her somehow, she had clearly wanted him to stay and he had wanted to stay so why the hell had he said no? He wondered if he should seek psychiatric help. Harry might be a good listener, but unlikely to be able to offer any advice in this particular situation.

Camille turned up at his place rather early the next morning – not that it mattered his anxiety meant he had already been up hours pacing about. "Hello," she said from his doorway. The first thing he noticed was that she was wearing the necklace he gave her and his heart rate instantly soared – surely that had to be a good sign?

"Hello," he managed to reply.

"Look," she began. "I understand that you were just being…a gentlemen. Chivalrous and so very…_English_. And though I think the idea that you want to wait until we have been on a proper date is ridiculous, I also except that it is rather _you_. And I, well, obviously like you. So, you better hurry up and take me somewhere and it better be nice."

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and when they did he was overwhelmed with relief. "Of course it'll be nice!" He promised, perhaps rather rashly.

"So where are we going?" Camille asked immediately, stepping inside and glancing about expectantly as if he might be about to whisk her away that moment. "And when, and what should I wear?"

Those were all good questions, not that Richard could answer them. "Err…" He said rather usefully. "Well, I, um, need a bit of time, you know, to think about it."

"What, like, a day?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Um…" This was all going horribly wrong again. "Maybe a…a tad longer."

"You can have a week," she offered. "I don't think my patience would last any longer," she added with a quick smile that caused his heart to skip a beat.

A week. Surely he could come up with something in a week?

* * *

The next day Keenan wondered into the station when it was just him and Dwayne. His other two officers were up at one of the resorts having words with a bunch of holidaymakers who'd gotten a bit out of hand the night before. The resort's own security had dealt with them, but had called the station the next morning to say they felt it was a good chance the individuals had been fuelled by more than just alcohol. So he had sent off Fidel with some drug identification kits, looking keen to use them, and Camille who could sniff out somebody lying a mile off. He didn't think it warranted the whole team, and he needed time to think anyway…

"Hello there!" He greeted them both cheerfully. Richard stood up and shook the young man's hand, it had been some time since they had last seen each other. "I've been tasked with putting out these notices, can I stick one up on your notice board?" He held it out to Richard who took it automatically. It seemed to be an advertisement for some sort of charity gala.

"So you are going ahead with another fundraiser?" He asked, remembering how Camille had mentioned the other marine reserve staff had been teasing Keenan about the last fundraiser. She'd seemed to feel quite sorry for the kid. Richard read the advert carefully, it seemed like a pretty high end event, being held at one of the newer resorts in two weeks' time. Formal dress, a string quartet and such. It was the sort of event usually held in the USA, as opposed to the cake sales and bring and buys that remained a key way of raising money in the UK. "This looks quite fancy," he told Keenan.

"Yeah," Keenan agreed. "The marine reserve have a new fundraising manager, it was all her idea. She managed to get a good deal on the resort because of a last minute cancellation. Actually a lot of places are already filled by prospective high end clients who are flying out from the continent. I think she might have brought a lot of, for want of a better word, clients with her from her last posting at some botanic garden. Just hoping to fill a couple of tables with locals I think."

"I am not sure you want the usual sort of people we get in here at this event," Richard told him flatly. Keenan began to laugh, which came to an abrupt end when he realised Richard wasn't actually joking. He accepted the leaflet back.

Keenan shrugged, "I've been told to get rid of all of them, and I think I have plastered every notice board on this island with them and I still have a massive stack left!"

"Is that really the job of a PhD student?"

"Well, you know, there was a clause in my contract that said I would dedicate a certain number of hours to doing work for the benefit of the reserve rather than for my PhD. I thought that would be all diving courses and exciting stuff, turns out its more leaflets and answering the phone…other people do the cool things." He seemed rather despondent.

"Hey!" Dwayne said brightly. "Let's have a look, I might have a special lady to take to the event." Keenan beamed and passed him a leaflet. Richard leaned back against his desk and waited for Dwayne to reach the bit about how much it cost. The reaction was as dramatic as expected, "$300! For some dinner and music? I could take a girl away for a whole weekend for that money!"

"Don't know a lady that is worth it?" Keenan asked cheekily. Dwayne just grunted in response – but Keenan's question had given Richard an idea – a blindingly obvious one that he couldn't believe he didn't think of earlier. He snatched the leaflet back of Dwayne and scanned it again, yes, this seemed rather ideal. The flyer was deficient in one aspect though, which meant Richard was forced to ask something he'd rather not in front of Dwayne.

"Um, so, how does one get hold of tickets?"

Keenan, quick as anything, responded, "Oh so _somebody_ knows a lady that is worth it!" Richard gave him a look that made the young man cower and regret being so forward. Dwayne, who could not be intimidated by a simple look, smirked openly at Richard. Keenan coughed awkwardly and continued, "Actually they gave me, like, six tickets just in case somebody wanted to buy them. I can take the cheque now if you like, or you can come into the centre later and buy them later…"

Richard decided he might as well get them now, before Camille came back. He rummaged about in his case for the cheque book and dutifully wrote it out, handing it over in exchange for two slightly crumpled tickets. "Um, so we also need the names for the table plan?" Keenan asked rather nervously.

Richard sighed aggressively and was about to answer when Dwayne piped up, "One is for him and one is for Camille." Richard stared at him in surprise. "How long do you think something like that us going to stay a secret on an island this small, Chief? I'll tell you - not long. Especially when you have been caught going at it by Catherine!"

Keenan looked as embarrassed by that statement as Richard felt, "We were not _going at it_." He said, defending himself.

"Fine!" Dwayne cried, rolling his eyes. "Making out, smooching, snogging, sharing a passionate embrace! Whatever you young people are calling it these days! What do you want me to call it?"

"I _want_ you to not refer to it _at all_!" Richard told him firmly. "We should be able to, to court in private."

"Court?" Dwayne repeated back at him, whilst Keenan did his best to hide a smile. "Seriously?"

Richard leaned back against his desk and whined, "Well 'dating' sounds so young. Younger than me. God, girlfriend does as well. I'm not sure how I am going to survive this."

"Well I strongly suggest if you want to survive until the end of the day, you never let Camille hear you said 'girlfriend' was too young a word to use to refer to her," Dwayne said wisely.

"Oh God, that is totally not what I meant to imply." Richard said in a panic.

"Don't worry, I haven't got any plans to tell her. Did I mention it would be good if I could knock off a little early today, got a big date myself?"

"Dwayne are you blackmailing me?"

"Blackmail!" Dwayne feigned indignation. "I'm simply asking for a _favour_."

Richard shook his head, but he wasn't really mad. "Yes, fine, you can go early. And we'll put that up if you want Keenan."

"But then Camille might see it. I am sure it will be better as a surprise!" Keenan asked, showing off his apparently hidden romantic side. Richard had to concede he was right. "Besides," Keenan assured him. "They'll be very pleased I actually _sold_ some tickets, I think they will forgive me if I haven't managed to get rid of all of the posters."

"Will you be going, eh?" Dwayne asked, playfully elbowing Keenan in the side. "Bet there are plenty of lovely ladies on the island who'd want to accompany you?"

Keenan blushed like a champion in response to the question. "I, um, I'll be there but I don't have a date."

"You don't have a date _yet_," Dwayne said cheerfully. "Boy, you've got a whole two weeks to find one."

Keenan looked like the chances of that happening were rather slim, and at that moment Richard did rather feel for him. He was reminded of himself during University when he had tended to find an excuse to leave the city rather than try to find a date for the May ball. "Well, they'll probably make me collect tickets on the door," he told them, though Richard thought Keenan might be planning to actually volunteer for the task.

* * *

Richard, wanting to tell Camille about the date he had planned when they were on their own, decided to walk her home after work. She seemed pleased by this action, and he made a mental note that is the sort of thing he should do again in the future. When they reached her place, he accepted the invitation to come in for a cup of a tea.

"So," he said, after gulping down some tea. For some reason his throat was rather dry – he was sure it was the heat, and absolutely nothing to do with nerves. "I have a surprise for you?" He didn't know why it came out as a question.

"Do you?" Camille asked with a smile that made his throat go instantly dry again. "I like surprises. As long as they are nice surprises." He was sure she did. He prayed this one fell into that category.

"I bought us these, it um, I thought, you know, it might make a nice first date," he pulled the still slightly crumpled (despite his efforts earlier to press them flat in a book) tickets from his jacket pocket and thrust them at her, along with a copy of the flyer that carried a little more detail. Richard found himself suffering flashbacks to the one time he had asked a girl to the Trinity May Ball with him. He hoped this went better than that had.

She took them and examined them curiously, a slow smile then spread across her features. "Tickets to the marine reserve benefit? Isn't this black tie – do you even own a tux?"

"In London," he told her – that little fact had slipped his mind. "But I can buy another or rent one or something."

"It's a small detail," she agreed.

Richard waited for her to tell him what she thought about the idea, but she seemed to be taking her time reading the material. Getting a little impatient, he cleared his throat and asked pointedly, "Is this a good first date?"

"It's an excellent first date," she told him, and he released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. But then his heart plummeted as she continued, "There is one problem though."

"What?"

"This benefit is two weeks away. I believe I told you that you had _one_ week to arrange our date."

"I did arrange it within a week!" He protested. In fact he had done it within the day as she had originally requested.

"Yes, but I meant I wanted to _go_ on the date within the week," she explained. "I would have thought the comment about my lack patience would have been a pretty good clue." She had advanced towards him slightly, and Richard wondered if he was going to get jabbed in the chest with a finger for getting it wrong. But then her proximity became much, much closer and he realised that violence wasn't what was on her mind. "But its ok, I think I have a solution to that problem."

"You do?" he asked. His voice seemed to have risen an octave.

"I do," she said. "For you see, since you have already paid for the tickets, you have essentially bought me dinner – just not one I have eaten yet. Do you follow?"

"I think so," he said. His hands were on her hips now, they'd ended up there automatically when she got close enough. Richard was pretty sure he was following her logic, but having her this close made it difficult for him to think straight – well, except about how much he wanted to kiss her.

"Good," she said, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

"You totally took advantage of me," he said afterwards, still somewhat breathless.

"Oh did I?" Camille replied. Richard couldn't see her – he was still on his back and didn't have the energy to roll over on to his side to face her yet – but he could tell from his voice she would have one of her eyebrows raised in response to his gentle accusation.

"Yes, you knew that is not what I meant by wanting to buy you dinner first."

"Well, you seemed to enjoy being taken advantage of," she teased him now. "It wasn't like you were _entirely_ passive in the process."

"Hey!" he protested, finally finding that burst of energy to turn to face her. "I think we both know you were _very_ much in charge."

"Prefer your women submissive, do we, Inspector Poole?"

"Oh no," he told her. "Not at all, you can be in charge as much as you like. I am perfectly willing to let you take the lead in such matters."

She shifted in closer to him, "Hey, it's not all about what _I_ want you know. If you want to be in charge sometimes, I'll let you."

Richard thought about this offer. The idea of being 'in charge' of this beautiful, dominant, feisty and sexy woman was one that very much appealed. Though one thing would need to be made clear to Camille. "Oh, I think you'll find you won't be _letting _me be in charge Camille," he said, rolling towards her and pushing her into the mattress. "You'll _want_ me to be in charge."

Based on vocal feedback, Richard succeeded on that front.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/N: I decided it needed a little build up, so I have split the final chapter into two! Hope you'll forgive me…

* * *

Given how much money Richard had spent on the tickets, Camille felt she should invest in a nice dress…and some nice things to go _under_ that dress as well. Unfortunately, this meant she had to make excuses not to spend the weekend with him. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if he was trailing around the shops after her, an activity she was almost certain he wouldn't enjoy anyway. It was a shame, it would have been nice to spend the weekend as a couple – but she was sure they had many weekends ahead of them to laze about in bed all day. Especially if he was going to continue to surprise her as he had the past few nights.

Richard had woken up the previous morning and informed her, "I was having a dream about you."

"Oh yes?" She said enquiringly. Then, recalling something he had said previously, asked, "And tell me was I in formal wear?" Perhaps she could get him to describe it, so she could get an idea of the kind of dress he might want to see on her.

"Yes," he said. "But not for very long."

They were late for work.

* * *

Richard was a little upset when Camille apparently needed a _whole_ weekend away from him. Well, technically not the whole weekend, she still appeared in the evenings – but informed him that she had other plans for the day. Plans she told him she had made before she knew there would be someone she'd rather be spending time with – and that it would be rude of her to cancel. So he sat at home during the day, spending them as he would of before he and Camille 'got together' – reading, pottering about talking to Harry, and staring at the phone wondering if somebody would commit a crime and he'd get called into work. Where she would be as well.

He also worried about why she was spending the days away from him – paranoid there might be more to it than what she was saying. It felt like she was being a little evasive when explaining her plans – like she was hiding something. But Richard thought that perhaps he had spent too long as a police officer and it made him naturally suspicious. Camille couldn't possibly be getting bored of him already? Feeling the need to get away?

When Camille did come around in the evenings she seemed pretty enthusiastic about his attentions then. Richard could never imagine a woman keeping him around because he was good in bed, even if she couldn't stand his personality. Largely because he didn't really think he was good in bed – though he was good at following instructions, and Camille seemed pretty satisfied with the experience. He definitely was.

"But _Maman…_" Camille whined.

"Don't 'but _Maman_' me young lady, you promised! Your Great Aunt is flying a long way to get here and at her age this might be the last trip she ever makes. She has always adored you and you are taking her out for the day _and _for dinner that evening."

Camille had never particularly liked her great aunt, who had always seemed elderly to her even as a young girl, and it frankly amazed her the woman was still breathing let alone flying across the Atlantic to come plague them for her yearly visit. Obviously she wasn't trying to get out of seeing her for the whole week – but was hoping to get out of joining them for dinner one night, so she could spent more time with Richard. She was worried he was feeling a little left out. It had been an incredibly busy week at work, a hell of a lot of overtime at been earned. Or would have been, if the Saint Marie Police Force actually had to money to pay them overtime. Instead they were all overworked, underpaid and certainly far too tired to do much with the spare time they did have except sleep. Camille had booked the day off to spend with her Great Aunt weeks ago, and she didn't see why that had to extend into the evening. Normally Great Aunt Fi, smelling strongly of Port, fell asleep before desert arrived anyway.

"But _Maman_ I am only asking to skip dinner!" She protested loudly. "You know how busy we have been this week, it would be nice to spend an evening with Richard…"

"Oh you two have the rest of your lives together!" Catherine interrupted her daughter. "So one evening with your poor, elderly Great Aunt is nothing in the grand scheme of things." This gave Camille pause, and Catherine took advantage of this to say firmly, "I'll tell Aunt Fi when I pick her up later how much you are looking forward to tomorrow, including dinner. In fact, I have a better idea, _you_ can come with me to pick her up."

Camille was too taken aback to protest further – even if she was now being forced into going to the airport to pick up her Aunt who was arriving on a ridiculously late flight. Instead she asked, rather shyly, "You really see us…being together forever?"

"I didn't say _forever,_" Catherine replied. "I said for the rest of your lives. Which might be quite short, say if you fail to turn up for dinner." Camille just shook her head and Catherine continued, "But more seriously, I think both of you are too stubborn to let this relationship fail." She didn't say it out loud, but Camille was glad for a little reassurance on that front. She had thought her mother might not entirely approve of her relationship with Richard. Of course, she hadn't exactly said she did yet, but she hadn't been disapproving either.

Camille supposed she better go break the news to Richard.

* * *

It has been a hell of few days. They'd started early and worked late until the thing had been solved. At times Camille had had to remind him to eat, he had given little thought to anything else. But it was done, dusted, every piece of paperwork filed and the culprit transferred to the local prison to await trial – there was no way any judge would be letting him out on bail. Weirdly he found now that he was missing Camille – even though they had spent the whole case together, it was not spending time in the way he wanted to. And he didn't just mean _that_. Ninety-five percent of their interactions that week had been professional, to the point where he has seriously begun to wonder if their new relationship has actually all been a dream. That the heat had finally made him snap, and he had imagined being in her bed. But every now and then she would send a smile his way, with a certain knowing about it, that helped him get through. But still, Camille had tomorrow off to escort some elderly relative around the island. She had told Richard she would abandon her with Catherine at dinner time and come see him instead.

It was getting late, he had gone back to the station after brief celebratory drinks to do the paperwork wanting the whole case out of the way by tomorrow, and Camille had stayed behind to inform Catherine of her plans for the next day. Now he was at home he found himself staring at his phone, wondering if he should call her, or if perhaps she had already gone to bed. But then, as if a goddess somewhere could hear his thoughts and decided to grant him a wish, it rang – the screen lighting up and informing him it was Camille.

"Hi!" He said, a little breathless with enthusiasm. Then a horrible thought occurred to him – what if she was calling because there had been _another_ murder. It was that thought that prompted him to say more cautiously, "What is it?"

"What _is_ it?" She echoed back at him. "You don't sound that pleased to hear from me," she grumbled.

"I _am_ pleased," Richard told her truthfully. "I just thought you might be telling me some bad news."

"Richard…" She began, but he cut her off.

"I know, I know! I am too pessimistic. Too _English_ as you would no doubt say." He couldn't stop grinning now, he could be self-deprecating – take a little teasing from her, if he meant he just got to hear her voice. Even though part of his brain was screaming at him not too, he added, "If anybody makes me feel positive about life it's you."

Camille sighed. It was not the response he was hoping for. It was, in fact, very nearly the _opposite_ of the response he was hoping for. He quickly began to trip over his words in an attempt to backtrack, "Yeah um, sorry, that was kind of soppy and, you know, cheesy and you deserve better and um, what I meant was, like, um…"

"Richard!" She said firmly. "What you said was really sweet and lovely and I sighed because I wish I was there."

"Well you _could_ be here," he suggested, whilst trying to figure out if being called sweet and lovely was a good thing. Perhaps a woman like Camille preferred somebody more…macho. Who would sweep her off her feet, not offer lame compliments. "Or I could be there," he added.

"I wish but _Maman_ is making me go with her to pick up Auntie Fi," she told him.

"Making you," he repeated back. As he superior officer, even _he_ couldn't _make_ Camille do anything – she even did it because she agreed his order or she went her own way.

"You have met my mother," she pointed out. And he hummed, suddenly understanding what she meant. Catherine was the one woman who could order Camille around. He knew he was going to try and get on that woman's good side, somehow, in the future because she held so much sway over her daughter. Richard wasn't entirely sure what Catherine thought about him – but he knew she didn't wholly approve, he didn't think it was _all_ his fault though. No doubt she wouldn't think he was good enough for Camille – he didn't think he was good enough for Camille most of the time.

"Oh well, I have dinner tomorrow to look forward to," he said, trying to display some optimism.

"Yes," she said, with a tone Richard didn't think he'd ever heard her use before. Sounded like…guilt. "About that. Um, picking up Aunt Fi isn't the only thing _Maman_ is forcing me to do. I'm sorry, she won't let me out of dinner." Richard didn't reply. He couldn't reply – because the disappointment was all encompassing and the words wouldn't come out. In response to the silence his end Camille asked, "Are you very mad?"

"I'm not mad I just thought…I'm…are you sure you can't get out of it?" He sounded like he was pleading, and he was a bit. Richard told himself to suck it up. He knew what the answer to that question was. Was this Catherine perhaps trying to keep them apart already? No, he was being paranoid. He needed to offer solutions not point out problems, "Well, I would like to see you. I could come to dinner…I mean, um, or just for a drink?" What was he thinking, inviting himself along? That was rude. It showed how much he wanted to see her. "It's probably too early to meet great-aunts, isn't it?"

"No, not at all, I would love you to come along," his heart soared. "But Richard Aunt Fi doesn't speak a single word of English, except a few swear words she picked up from British airmen during the war. Plus her accent is very strong and your French isn't exactly…"

"I know exactly what my French is up to." And it wasn't dinner conversation, except perhaps enough to be able to actual order.

"I'm so sorry Richard," and she did sound it.

"Never mind," he said. This was hardly the first time he had been disappointed in his life, he would muddle through as usual. However, he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. "So, what are your plans with your Great Aunt?"

"Oh!" Said Camille brightly. "We can finally do something different with her this year – we are taking her on one of those glass bottom boat tours. Normally they don't do the tours in French on Thursdays, but I bumped into Keenan today and did you know he can speak French?"

"No," said Richard, wondering where this was going.

"Yes, _really_ well. Apparently he did at A-level, whatever that means." Richard would have told her, but she didn't even draw breath as she continued gushingly, "I mentioned my problem to him and he was really sweet and offered to come with us and provide a translation service. I mean, I could have done it, but he'll be much better at the technical stuff and will be able to answer Aunt Fi's questions directly! Isn't that just ideal?"

Yes, Richard supposed that it did. "It is very nice of him."

"Isn't it, he really is a sweet young man you know. One of those people where you just can't understand why they are single." Richard thought to himself that probably in the past, at no point, had anybody wondered why _he_ was single.

"Camille," he began, wanting to bring the conversation back around to them. Wanting to tell her _something_, but not sure what that thing was yet. "Camille, I…"

"Just a sec," she said, cutting him off. "Yes, yes," He heard her say impatiently. "I'm sorry Richard," she said coming back on. "It is time to leave. I will speak to you soon!"

"Bye," he said, but it was too late – she had already hung up. He dropped the phone on the bed, and cursed whatever goddess had decided to grant his wish with nothing but false hope.


	3. Chapter 3

He was finally going to get her to himself.

The start of his and Camille's relationship hadn't been as perfect as he was hoping for. Richard had had plenty of time to fantasise about what it would be like if he should actually somehow manage to get her to want to be with him – and those fantasies had been surprisingly romantic. Especially for a man who only watched romantic comedies under protest and cursed the apparent need for the majority of detective novels to always have some romantic sub-plot. But all that time longing for Camille had meant that he, in his weak moments, had found himself hoping he would turn out to be the detective who, despite their many personality faults, wins the heart of a beautiful, intelligent female colleague.

And in those same fantasies, he had always imagined that they would spend _a lot_ of time together at the start of the relationship – with not many clothes on. Instead, life had gotten in the way. Cases that needed solving, previous plans that had to be kept.

But tonight was the fundraiser. Their first proper date. And his opportunity to finally have her to himself. Yes, there would be other people there, and maybe even some they knew. But he was sure he could circumnavigate them with a few polite words. Then the rest of the evening could be spent romancing Camille in the way she deserved – and attempting to make up for all his many faults. Thank goodness they had been forced to learn how to dance at school – he was confident an event like this would concentrate on the sort of music he could handle. Waltzes and the like. And he had excellent table manners.

Table manners? God help him if he was relying on table manners to make up for his otherwise uselessness at relationships.

* * *

Camille looked amazing.

The dress had to be new – at the very least it was new to him, he supposed it was hardly something she would wear to work though. Richard wondered if she had arranged to have it made especially for her – it certainly fit her _very_ well. And the shoes, he really liked the shoes. She was looking at him expectantly. He was supposed to say something, wasn't he? Richard was still struggling to accept she would go to all this effort _for him_. Should he say that? No, it lacked confidence. Should he mention he liked the shoes? No, she might think he had some kind of fetish. Even if he was hoping she would keep them on later. Did he have a fetish?

"Richard!" Camille said, reaching out a hand and placing it on his arm. "Breathe!" He did take a deep breath, and found suddenly his thoughts were a lot clearer. She smiled, "I am going to guess you like the dress."

"Yes," he said emphatically. "And the shoes. You look…fantastic. You look fantastic. You are fantastic."

"Thank you," she replied. Fingering his bowtie (he knew how to tie a bowtie, another point to him!) she added, "You look good as well. Where did you get the Tux?"

"I had to order it on the internet from Miami. Did you know there aren't many places in the Caribbean that rent tuxedos? And those that do seem to be out of the eighties – powder blue or with a flowery shirt."

She gave a little shrug, "Well I think you'd look good in powder blue." He frowned – though he had imagined Camille would be applying pressure to change his wardrobe, it has never occurred to him something as horrendous as a powder blue tuxedo could be on the agenda. A pair of shorts maybe (he could argue for the Bermuda kind) but what…"Relax!" She said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm joking. Though it is good you bought the tux, you might need it again in the future."

And with that little tease, she took his arm and directed him towards the car.

* * *

"Oh look," Camille told him, shoulders slumping as they walked up the path towards the resort, which was lit beautifully and to Richard looked magnificent, so he did not know why Camille was so disappointed.

"What is it?" He asked, looking around for evidence of human rights abuses or an animal in distress.

"Keenan is collecting tickets on the door," she said. "I was really hoping he'd be joining in tonight, having a good time, he deserves to you know? But instead he has stuck himself on the door. He really doesn't understand what a great guy he is." Richard recalled thinking Keenan would volunteer for this role – and Camille with her expertise on the human condition has easily figured out why. Camille had confessed to him that the boy – well, young man he supposed – had been brave enough to ask her out, citing that he met so few women who didn't think he was weird. So, though he had more guts than Richard (look at how long it had taken him to make a move with Camille) it seemed they still shared a certain awkwardness with women…and also, apparently, slightly similar taste in those they liked. Richard did feel for Keenan, but he would rather not have the boy's moping ruin their evening.

"Well don't assume he volunteered," Richard said, even though he didn't believe it. "They might have made him, what with being the most junior member of staff and all."

"That isn't exactly comforting, Richard."

He supposed it wasn't. "He'll find somebody eventually, don't worry. Even the most hopeless cases do – just look at me." She smiled up at him, squeezing his arm.

* * *

"Good evening, Keenan," Camille looked the young gentlemen up and down as Richard hunted around in the pockets of his tux for the tickets. She gave him a quick wink, "Well don't you look handsome." Keenan didn't respond, he seemed to be having a similar reaction to her outfit as Richard had earlier, or at least she guessed that was why his jaw was slack and he was staring. When Richard found his tickets and looked up, he frowned, unimpressed by the gawking. He flapped the tickets in Keenan's face, who came to his senses and accepted them sheepishly. Camille thought it was kind of cute – and flattering, of course.

"Are you on the door all night Keenan," she asked – hoping the boy didn't notice the dirty look he was receiving from Richard. She squeezed her lover's arm really quite hard, in the hopes he would get the point and cut it out. Richard covered an "ow!" with a cough, and then stood quietly next to her. Nobody could say Camille didn't know how to get men to behave.

"No, no," he said, looking at his feet. "Um, we expect everyone to arrive in the next hour or so. Then we are supposed to go in and mingle – tell people how essential the marine reserve is."

"Good!" Richard said, taking an interest. "You'll be able to tell people about your research, an excellent demonstration of the importance of the reserve."

Of course Richard felt scientific progress was the most important aspect of the charity. Keenan glanced up for a moment, then went back to examining his toes, "Actually, I was told specifically not to talk about my research. Apparently not many people like octopuses. They prefer coral and marine mammals and brightly coloured fishes, you know?"

Camille felt a pang of sympathy. But at least Keenan would get to interact with other people. "Well, I bet you could show people just how interesting they are. Like you did with me."

With that little compliment, Keenan stood up straighter, finally looking up. "Well maybe I will give it a go!" He said. "I'm not even the most junior person, anymore, you know. There is a new girl." Keenan nodded into the hall, and they both peered through the door and easily spotted who he was talking about. A pale looking young woman was offering punch. She kept fiddling with her dress straps and dirty blonde hair that had been put into a slightly untidy up-do. But pretty, still, very pretty. "Her name is Katie and she's from Oxford. Very smart, of course, just like anyone from Oxbridge. Her PhD research is on the mating behaviours of _Stenopus scutellatus_ and other members of the Stenopodidae_._" A quick glance at her face caused Keenan to realise she had no idea what he was on about, so he explained, "that is the gold coral banded shrimp and its relatives. Her research is actually very interesting, they have quite elaborate courtship the boxer shrimp…but she was also told not to talk about her PhD. Instead she was told to concentrate her Masters project which was on peacock flounders."

"Oh well they are fantastic creatures," Richard enthused. "Real masters of disguise, they can rapidly change colour to camouflage into their surroundings and in the lab they've even matched checkboards and things like that. And their eyes move independently of each other so they can be looking in two directions at once."

"Yes," said Camille. "But they can't use tools, _can they_?"

"No," Richard said, taking the hint. "Definitely not as good as octopuses."

"Or shrimp," Keenan added, sending a glance in the direction of this Katie person. Camille thought his willingness to defend her was sweet.

"Or shrimp," Richard repeated – not succeeding in sounding like he meant it.

There then followed a lull in the conversation which eventually became a slightly awkward silence. Keenan cleared his throat and told them, "Well, you two, um, having a great evening!"

"Thank you, Keenan," Camille said, reaching out to touch his elbow. "You're doing a great job."

* * *

Richard took Camille's arm and quickly steered her over to the drinks. He knew she was concerned about Keenan, but was hoping to distract her. Though this action brought them face to face with Katie, the poor student in the same position as Keenan, so was not the most effective move to make Camille forget about him. Oh well, they had all evening, he could afford some time on others.

"So," he began, passing a glass of punch to Camille and awaiting his own drink. "You study shrimp courtship?"

She paused in the middle of filling his glass, looking at him for a moment like she had misheard. Then she gave a quick smile, pulled sharply at the strap of her dress and passed over his glass. "Um, yes, but how did you know that?"

"Keenan, on the door, mentioned it," he said, indicating the boy with his glass. Keenan, it seemed, has been watching them and quickly averted his eyes upon being caught. Richard frowned briefly, but Keenan was only human and Camille did look amazing, he couldn't begrudge the fellow an appreciative glance or two. Though he was exactly overjoyed with the way Camille was grinning, and the little significant look she gave him.

Katie's mouth opened, gaping like a fish, before she finally said, "Oh." She tucked the loose strands of hair that had come loose from her style behind her ears and began to rearrange the remaining empty glasses. It seemed Katie expected them to leave but Camille had other ideas.

"Oh what?" She prompted.

She gave them a wide eyed look, but realised they (or at least Camille) was really interested. She gave a shrug, "Oh, he must have actually been listening. Most people switch off when I start talking about my research. Shrimp are just food to most people."

Richard, feeling sorry for the girl, said, "Well I would love an overview of your work on boxer shrimp." His choice of the word 'overview' was deliberate – he hoped she would keep it to that, and be brief. Richard had already annoyed Camille that time they'd gone on the boat tour, with all his detailed scientific chat to Keenan, he didn't want to do it tonight.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "I mean, I have also studied peacock flounders. They are very interesting. They have eyes that can look in different directions," she demonstrated by holding an index finger up to each eye, pointing them in opposite directions. "And can camouflage themselves against a whole range of surfaces."

He looked at Camille, who have a small nod, and said, "Yes, but I know that. Tell me about _Stenopus scutellatus_?"

And so they listened for 10 minutes as Katie explained the background biology of _S. scutellatus_, as well as the specific questions posed by her own research. Richard thought Camille did a remarkable job of feigning interest. He actually _was_ interested, to an extent, and even he struggled a bit when she got into the intricacies of fights between the females. But Camille kept smiling, nodding in the right places, and looked alert throughout. It was quite the skill – and he had to wonder how often she had needed to utilise it with him. He would need to watch out for it in the future, so he knew when she was bored. He hoped interest was the only thing she faked…

Katie ended her explanation, which had been interrupted briefly a couple of times by other guests needing drinks. She gave a quirky little half smile, rearranging the skirt of her dress, and said a little breathlessly, "Well, that's it, um, any questions?"

"No, I don't have any," he said. She looked down, awkward, and Richard remembered it was a sign of failure in academia if you weren't asked questions. He quickly added, "Because you explained it all so clearly, you see." That seemed to appease her. "Um, Camille?" He said, guessing now it was time for them to leave.

"Oh, I do have one question," she said, surprising him. "Though as Richard said, it was very well explained, I was actually just wondering if you knew what Keenan studies?"

It seemed like a very odd question to ask, Camille knew exactly what Keenan studied surely. Unless she had been switched off entirely when he spoke? Katie smiled and told them, "Oh he has a _really_ cool project on tool use in Atlantic _Amphioctopus_ species. A kind of octopus," she added at the end. "He is probably the best person to ask - very smart. Really dedicated as well." She frowned as she looked over at Keenan, currently smiling politely and accepting tickets off an elderly white couple. "You know, I'm not entirely sure he does anything _but_ work." Realising she had something slightly inappropriate, Katie focused on inspecting her brightly painted nails.

Camille didn't comment on it. Instead she just nodded and said, "Thank you, Katie." Richard glanced around the room, looking for somewhere suitable where he could take Camille so they could be mostly alone. On the drive over he had had time to think of some suitable compliments for the way she looked (better than just the fantastic he had managed earlier), and he was eager to use them before he forgot or made the first mess up of the evening. If his inability to speak earlier didn't already count as a mess up. Camille, it seemed, was not on the same wavelength as him because she asked Katie next, "What do you like doing outside of your studies?"

"Ummm," she said. "Well, actually, I quite like dancing. Which is why it is cool to be here. Though I don't know many people I'm hoping somebody will ask!" Camille shot him another look, and Richard wondered if he was supposed to volunteer to dance with her. He didn't particularly want to…

"Well, you enjoy your evening!" Camille said, bringing the conversation to a close at last.

"Thank you! You too!"

* * *

Richard tried not to wince at the food at dinner. Seriously, they were serving sea food? He wanted to give the same rant he had before, but remembered how all that had achieved was Camille rolling her eyes, huffing, and walking away. So instead he grinned and bore it, though Camille seemed to know and was amused by it. She herself seemed distracted during dinner, kept glancing over towards where Keenan was hovering. Some of the other staff of the marine reserve were sitting amongst the guests, no doubt to try to drum up support (e.g. more money) for the reserve. That included Katie, who was picking at her prawn cocktail whilst some older bloke leered over her, but not Keenan. He was next to the kitchen door directing waiters. In fact there were quite a few moments during dinner that Richard just felt Camille wasn't really there, with him, in the moment. That she was busy contemplating other things. There was a sick feeling in his stomach when he thought about what those other things might be.

He tried to win back her attention by offering to share his desert, when she seemed to enjoy hers so much. But she shook her head, "If you want me to stay in dresses like this, I wouldn't be forcing too many deserts on me."

Richard felt this was paranoid, and Camille wouldn't even put on half a pound indulging on this one occasion, but he had enough common sense to know one doesn't discuss weight on the first date. Soon dinner was over…and it was time for the dancing. As he watched them moving tables whilst they stood, enjoying an after dinner coffee, Richard bit his lip and found himself mentally rehearsing moves he hadn't used in years. Camille must have noticed his pre-occupied nature, because she nudged him with an elbow and said, "I won't _make_ you dance, if you really don't want too."

"I do want to dance with you," he insisted. "I just wish it wasn't in front of all of these peoples. And I had full control of the music."

"Well, I can at least offer not to force you to dance to a _fast_ song with me," she said with a knowing look.

"That was never going to happen anyway," he assured her. Camille just pouted.

* * *

Camille had to admit she was impressed. She had suspected, when he held her oh so briefly over a year ago, that he actually knew how to dance. And now she knew her suspicions to be true. He had held her confidently, though there were a few stumbles that were largely her fault as they both tried to lead. He gripped her hip in a commanding (and rather sexy) way and gave her a look, and she capitulated and allowed him to take the lead. And she didn't regret it. Three songs later the tempo picked up slightly, and to save him the embarrassment of trying to excuse himself she immediately said, "Shall we get a drink?"

He nodded, and hand on the small of her back led her over to the bar. Camille glanced about her as they moved through the crowd, trying to identify those she knew but looking for somebody in particular. Ah, there he was, Keenan was making his rounds with a clip board. Probably trying to encourage people to sign up for the silent auction. So basically, not enjoying the party at all. Unlike some of his student colleagues, she could see Katie dancing quite nearby. So could Keenan. Richard passed her a glass of something, which she sipped at, tracking Keenan as he failed to get some stuck up couple interested in whatever he was trying to sell.

And just like that, her mind was made up.

"Richard," she said, turning and placing her still largely full glass on a tray. "You know how you don't want to dance to fast songs?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Don't worry, I am not going to make you, that promise still stands. But, well, you wouldn't mind if I danced with somebody else for these dances?"

"You want to dance with strangers?" He asked.

Camille, who wasn't actually adverse to the idea of dancing with strangers, knew what a foreign concept that would be to Richard. She hurried to correct him, "I don't want to dance with just _anybody_ Richard. I want to dance with Keenan."

"Oh," he said, scuffing a toe against the floor. "Yeah, sure." A small shrug followed.

"Oh come on, I won't be too long!" She cajoled. "I just feel he should have fun!"

"It's fine, really, go!" He told her. "I'll go find some science-y types to talk to. You know, and talk about stuff that would…bore you."

Camille smiled, that was the right attitude – the two of them would have to learn to compromise in the future if they weren't going to kill each other. She gave him elbow a quick squeeze, then turned and threaded her way towards Keenan.

* * *

Richard was both a complete idiot, and not an idiot. He was a complete idiot because he should have seen this coming, and he was not an idiot because he could see what was happening in front of him now. Keenan, it seemed, was a very good dancer – at least under the tuition of Camille he was. He had watched as Camille had tapped him on the shoulder and asked him. He'd frowned down at the clip board, but a few words of encouragement from her and he shoved it at a passing fellow staff member and followed her out to the dance floor.

Richard was too old for her! That has to be it. He had worried eventually she would realise this, but he thought they would have more than two weeks. God, probably less than that, look at the way she had "other plans" at the weekend. And how she had assured him that he wouldn't enjoy joining her and her Great Aunt for dinner. No, they were probably just excuses – her not wanting to spend time with him but being to kind to drop him so soon.

Richard bit his lip, suddenly convinced that it was the bedroom that was the problem. He had thought he was being enthusiastic – but perhaps he didn't really have the energy to keep up with a woman like her. Didn't they say women reached their sexual peak around her age? He had never paid any attention to, what was in his opinion, diatribe – but not he wished he had. And oh God, men, they reached their sexual peak in their early twenties didn't they? Camille had told him she'd let Keenan down by explaining he was too young for her, but perhaps a little time with middle aged Richard had quickly convinced her that wasn't the case. She wanted somebody younger, and more adventurous, not way past their sexual peak and able to bloody dance to fast songs! After all, she had told Keenan earlier he looked handsome. And Richard had seen her watching him _all evening_. And what further evidence did he need then her own words: 'I don't want to just dance with _anybody_, Richard. I want to dance with Keenan!'

Oh God, he was getting dumped for somebody who studied octopuses. This was the most humiliating moment of his life.

"Wow!" Katie had appeared from somewhere, and had followed his sullen gaze to where Keenan and Camille were dancing to their second song. "Keenan really knows how to dance!"

Oh good. The gods were not done with his humiliation yet. Perhaps Katie was going to feel sorry for him, offer to dance, and he'd have to turn her down in his own floundering way. But no, as soon as the song came to the end and she saw Camille disengage from Keenan, she declared, "I better get in there before some of the other girls do!"

Nope, dumped again for Keenan. The boy was a younger, more confident version of Richard. In fact he was like how Richard was at his age – before too many rejections forced him into his current emotional shape. That was, slow to trust and completely useless at expressing himself on any topic that even touched on 'feelings'. Want a monologue on Watts' translation of _Pro Tito Annio Milone ad iudicem oratio_ versus Geerebaert's? He was your man. Want your boyfriend to tell you are beautiful, and that he loves you? Go somewhere else.

Richard realised that Camille was looking about for him – he had not remained where she had left him. And that fear of feelings meant he didn't want to face her, not yet, he wasn't ready to hear the truth from her lips. He needed time to compose himself – build walls. He tried the French doors he was leaning against and to his relief they were open – so he slipped through and out on to the balcony. No doubt when Camille couldn't find him she would just go back to Keenan, or dance with other young men.

He stared down into the garden that was lit so nicely. The plants were all new, not really bedded in yet, and he could see where turf was dying at the edges. A metaphor for his relationship with Camille – unable to take root, dying before its time. Curling up at the edges…oh God, he wasn't even any good at metaphors!

"There you are!" He jumped, the glass slipping from his fingers and smashing to the garden below. Thank goodness there was nobody down there, a manslaughter charge was the last thing he needed. Though he supposed it would be one way off the island and away from the awkwardness that would now ensue with Camille. Or he could just resign and take up writing crime novels for a living.

"Richard!" Camille said loudly. She touched him gently on the back. "Where are you?"

He frowned, "I'm on the patio?"

She rolled her eyes, "Not literally, in your mind?"

"Just…" He gave a shake of his head. "Nowhere. It doesn't matter. Why aren't you dancing?"

"Because my dance partner is skulking on the balcony."

"I thought you might be inundated with better offers."

"Richard!" She admonished him. "Are you jealous because of a couple of dances with Keenan? It shouldn't be attractive, but it kind of is." She stepped close to him, smiling up at him and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. No doubt she felt she had to show some kind of loyalty to him this evening, given how much he had forked out on the tickets.

"Well at least there is _one_ thing you find attractive about me."

Camille took a quick step back, her face turning to thunder, "Ok, now it isn't attractive. What has gotten into you?"

Richard sighed, "Look, I understand, it's not your fault…"

"I know it's not my fault!" She interrupted him. His temper flared, and he almost shouted, but decided to try to maintain some decorum. If tonight had taught him anything, it was that he was the mature one in this relationship.

"Obviously it just isn't meant to be. And the sooner we acknowledge that the better."

"Are you dumping me, on our first date?"

Like a man like him would ever willingly leave a woman like Camille. "I'm not dumping you Camille, I'm letting you go. I can see now, you know, how your 'other plans' have been you trying to get out of time with me. How all night you've been watching Keenan…who you run off to dance with at the first opportunity. I am too old for you, too boring, and I was lucky to have you whilst I did."

She stared at him, before shaking her head very slowly. "You think I want Keenan?"

Richard looked at the floor and nodded.

"You're an idiot." She said "Luckily for you, so am I a bit. I'm sorry - I thought you _knew_ why I was dancing with Keenan." She came close to him, using a finger to lift his chin. "You've gotten better at reading my looks recently, but perhaps this one did require a bit more explanation. And I'm also sorry because maybe my little plan wasn't entirely appropriate for our first date."

"Plan?" Richard repeated faintly.

"Yes, plan." She said with a sigh. "I just felt so sorry for Keenan, stuck on the door you know, and he did kind of help us get together in a roundabout way. I saw the way he looked at Katie, and how Katie was when she spoke about him, that I knew they were interested in each other but each not sure about making the first move. I was watching him all evening because I wanted to make sure _he_ was watching Katie and she him so I didn't embarrass myself." Richard blinked hard. He thought he was just about following who was watching whom…or supposed to be watching at least… "I ran off to dance with him because Katie had said how she loved dancing and I thought it would trigger her to go over and ask him if she _knew_ that he danced. Look!" Camille took him by the hand and dragged him to the door, pointing out the couple on the dancefloor. "It worked," she offered rather weakly.

"You were setting them up?" He asked.

"Yes! Now you are going to ask, why am I trying to set up other people on our first date? But Richard you make me so happy. And that just makes me want everybody to be happy. And maybe he would have spoken to her eventually but…I don't want people to have to wait either."

"I make you happy?" He repeated.

"You make me very happy," she said.

"And your other plans, they really were just other plans, weren't they?"

"Of course they were. Actually one of the weekends was spent hunting out this dress – I thought you deserved something special," she said with a wolfish grin.

And Richard believed her. Camille leaned up and kissed him, and he quickly pulled her close and responded. After a few moments, she pulled away and asked, "So, do you forgive my matchmaking?"

"If you forgive my jealous stupidity," he confirmed.

"Well then, I guess we'll be ok." She took his arm and pulled him back inside. "I believe it is a waltz, shall we dance?"

"As you wish. One question though, are you going to be matchmaking on _every_ date?"

"Oh no, definitely not." She told him, patting his hand. "Dwayne is my next project, that'll take way more time than just our dates…."

Richard hoped she was joking.

* * *

A/N: And that is the end of the story, and of the Marine Biology series! Phew!


End file.
